


Paris/Oxford

by lazyroughdrafts



Series: The Nanny Chronicles (very light on chronicle-ing) [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: AU, F/F, Fluff and Humor, some strong language, sometimes cousins are the worst, this an alternate timeline in an alternate universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2732339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyroughdrafts/pseuds/lazyroughdrafts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Paris, a cat and a too-tiny bikini feature. Also self-defense classes come in handy. </p><p>So consider this to be a separate timeline from 'One Nanny, No Diaries'.  The original piece had all this Mycroft-induced nonsense in it, so I'm putting it here as an AU of the AU where it can't do as much damage. </p><p>Helena still has a crush on Myka (who still happens to be her daughter's nanny). It's all very horribly convenient.<br/>Also, Charles ships them big time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An older, dark-haired Tom Mison is still Charles in this universe.

 

The woman closed the door gingerly, taking great care not to make the slightest sound. After accomplishing the first part of her mission, she leaned against the front door heavily but relieved. With a deep sigh she proceeded to take off her killer snakeskin ankle boots. It was only when her bare feet met the coolness of the rose marble floor that she realised just how much they ached.

 

Tonight had been a complete disaster. One of her own allowance to be sure. Why she'd ever decided that agreeing to a date with such an obviously predatory, gold-digging woman was a good idea momentarily escaped her. That moment would turn out to be extremely brief. She tiptoed up the grand staircase, shoes in hand, with an almost exaggerated slowness. A casual observer would have remarked, had they been privy to the scene, that this otherwise elegant woman appeared to be comically afraid of making a sound. So much so, that she may or may not have been holding her breath. As it was, she reached the landing without incident and turned the corner to pass by her daughter's room. As per usual, she'd left the night light on. The dark-haired woman very carefully placed her shoes and Gucci clutch on the floor before entering.

 

Her daughter was fast asleep, the remnants of a cold lending her the tiniest, cutest snore. Before her was a heavenly vision. Christina was peacefully slumbering in the arms of her goddess of a nanny. The Mother gasped involuntarily before biting down hard on her lower lip. The breath she may have been holding expunged in a squeaky wheeze-snort after the sharp intake of breath. The curly-haired grad student looked up stunned from the book in which she was so thoroughly engrossed, and then surprise was replaced by a curious expression. Jolted back to reality by her beautiful employer, she shrugged shyly and looked down towards the sleeping child in explanation. The explanation was understood by the older woman. She could very well imagine how the scenario had played out as it had countless times before.

 

It always started with puppy dog eyes and a "please Myka, just one more story" or a variant thereof, followed by "please Myka don't leave me until I fall asleep" or a variant thereof. Hours before, Christina had snuggled into the young woman's side in such a manner as to make it difficult to retrieve her arm without waking the girl.

 

All the very good logical reasons for going on a series of spectacularly bad dates, were really one reason. That reason was dressed in a navy blue University of Oxford hoodie and scandalously short shorts, barely covering scandalously long legs. All the award-winning engineer could think at present were scandalous thoughts. The young woman who was helping her raise her daughter was hyper-intelligent, warm and absolutely devoted to her charge. But over the last 2 years it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore her growing infatuation with the long-legged beauty. In that time, with what actual free time she possessed that was not spent with Christina, she had taken up Kenpo, ballet and a multitude of other distraction techniques masquerading as hobbies.

 

Hence the seemingly endless number of terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad dates. In actual fact, she had not been remotely tempted by anyone else. And every Nate that tried to stroke her thigh during dinner, every Giselle trying to eye-hump her across the table just made the beleaguered beauty want to run home into the arms of the endless wonder that was Myka Ophelia Bering. It was a mess. She would have to suppress all thoughts of a romantic nature towards the woman with the emerald-green eyes. At least try much much harder to suppress them, and definitely not stare at her like she was presently doing. Her mouth may or may not have been slightly agape. Her eyes may or may not have been blacker than they'd ever been.

 

Righty-ho then, she thought and ran a hand through her shiny black tresses, mouthed "Thank you" and went to place a kiss on Christina's forehead. A smile lit up her face as she watched her daughter. Myka very carefully disentangled herself without waking the 4-year-old. Helena heard her whisper "goodnight lovebug" before also bidding herself goodnight and exiting the room.

 

.............

 

Helena couldn't sleep. She simply couldn't drift off into a state where she wasn't thinking about Myka.

 

Restless, she thought to make her way to the kitchen to brew herself some valerian root with chamomile flowers. Once downstairs she noticed the library door was open and the lights on. It was too late to walk past unnoticed as Myka was sat with her knees curled up at the bay window and had caught her shadow in her peripheral vision. "Helena?" she asked unsure whether she had imagined the ghost of movement in the darkness.

 

Helena emerged through the doorway, "Yes darling, it's only me. I couldn't sleep."

 

"Me neither." Myka had grown unsure of her place in the household over the last month. Lately it seemed to her that Helena was actively avoiding her. And the very idea, hurt. Somehow hurt more than it should.

 

"You came home early." It was a question. A question in a statement laced with a a dash of relief a pinch of hope and a smidgen of fear.

 

Helena had walked across the room and was now facing the lovely 24-year old Classics student. She nodded. She was also still staring. Something she only realised when Myka inexplicably blushed a deep pink.

 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have- It's really none of my business. Sorry."

 

"Please darling it's perfectly fine. You've no need to apologise."  Was Myka jealous? The possibility made her slightly dizzy.

 

"I didn't get home nearly early enough." She said suggestively. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

  
"In fact, you know darling I think from now on I will be spending my evenings at home."

 

This time they were both staring. Helena was wearing a short robe, poorly obscuring an even shorter black lacy number. Myka bit her lip before looking away.

 

Dr. Wells was a certified genius, but at this very moment her brain was in total meltdown and all she had to rely on was pure instinct. Could it be that the girl was struggling with similar thoughts? Those green eyes were certainly much darker than she remembered.

 

Myka smiled.

 

There it was again a dash of hope and a pinch of relief. This time laced with equal parts joy and something else. Lust?

 

All she had was instinct to fallback on. And the illustrious Dr. Wells was afraid to trust herself to get it right. This she had to get exactly right.

 

Helena reached over and squeezed Myka's hand a gesture that was accompanying an innocent, "I was going to make myself a brew. Care to join me?"

 

Myka squeezed back and lifted the both of them to their feet. "I'd love a cup." Helena led the taller woman to the kitchen. Both of them choosing to forget to let go of the other's hand. And there they were making tea. Standing a little too close to each other. Placing hands on hips gratuitously as they slid past to reach the kettle, caressing a forearm lightly as one went to grab the tin of tea. They weren't crossing any lines. Not really.

 

They were leaning against the counter turned facing each other as the water boiled. Helena reached over to tuck a stray curl behind Myka's ear. Her hand lingering there. Nothing scandalous. Nothing at all really. Not even when Myka leaned into her hand.

 

Myka bit her bottom lip again. Helena's were slightly parted. The kettle continued to boil over. They had to get this exactly right. Exactly right.

 

.............

 

_"I think I'm being followed. I mean. I think. I'm almost 100% sure we are being followed, Christina and I." She blurted and then bit her lip in shame. "I know it sounds crazy."_

_"No darling, thank you for telling me. That's not what's crazy." She hissed 'Charles' under her breath as she excused herself to have a word with her brother._

_"Charles Edward Wells, if you asked Mycroft to put Myka, my home, under surveillance you had better ask for protection for yourself! Helena was absolutely livid._

_"Tell me you didn't..."_

_"I most certainly did! And I do not apologise for refusing to put the safety of my niece and godchild in the hands of a young, irresponsible, American student!"_

_"You wretched man. Call your dogs off or I will tell Mycroft what he can do to himself!"_

 

.............

 

  
Helena couldn't afford to make a false move where Myka was concerned. Life was immeasurably better with her in it and her daughter absolutely adored her. There could be no missteps. Not with pancake Sundays and early morning teas and late night conversations between them. 

 

Life was _all_ kinds of better with Myka in it.

 

An idea if voiced, that would be completely alien to the modest young woman. Entirely oblivious to her effect on the Wells' household, she hadn't the foggiest inkling of the tremendous impact she'd made on the lot. She was simply grateful to feel a sense of belonging for the first time in her life, feeling that she was the lucky one to have been let into their lives. The facts remained. Christina was thriving. Helena had an extra twinkle in her eye. Even Charles began making time to see them more often, leaving his mansion on Kensington Palace Gardens to do so despite his rabid distrust of plebs in general and his utter mortification with their address in specific. Life was immeasurably better for everyone concerned.

 

That harmony. That almost perfect balance was threatened just over a year into this almost idyllic arrangement, just two weeks after a perfect Sunday of apple cinnamon pancakes. Helena was being offered a job in Oxford she could not refuse. Literally. And Mycroft _of course_ had almost everything to do with it.

 

.............

 

Yes, for a moment the peace _had_ been disturbed and the balance _had_ tipped. And tripping, stumbling, and fighting through the middle of the middle is mostly necessary for certain developments to occur. Even so, whether she had allowed herself to admit it or not, there was an ending that she had started to hope for and a beginning she was desperate to reach. Hence, some necessary posturing.

 

"What can I do for you, my fair cousin?"

 

If he was surprised to see her, he didn't show it.

 

She greeted him with a customary kiss on both cheeks though her eyes were narrowed and her body language poised to strike if necessary.

 

Truth be told, if anything he looked the faintest bit pleased that she'd managed to break into his office. He'd always held a grudging respect for the baby of the family. Her intellectual prowess was inferior to his to be sure, but then again so was everyone else's including his brother. And though he would never admit to having any feelings of the sort, Mycroft even felt something akin to affection for his youngest cousin.

 

"I don't imagine you went to all the trouble of making your way from Brixton to discuss the excess of ecru taffeta at Juliana's wedding. As ghastly as it was." His nose twitched in distaste.

 

Helena threw him a questioning look.

 

"Aunt Maud was kind enough to send the wedding video. As I was otherwise engaged that weekend." He explained dryly.

 

'It was rather ghastly." She said in agreement.

 

Her gaze directed him to the blue file she had thrown on his desk.

 

"I'm afraid I must decline your offer." Her lips curled in a smile that could have cut steel.

 

"Oh, but I must insist you reconsider. Your government needs you. These are trying times." Responding with his usual deadpan condescension.

 

"Mycroft, we both know you ARE the government darling." Arching her eyebrow as she said so.

 

He rapped his knuckles on the heavy oak desk twice.

 

"Well, then we both know that this is an offer you cannot possibly refuse. There are ways to secure your full cooperation in the matter."

 

"Are there?"

 

"There are."

 

"That will have to remain to be seen." She glared rolling her shirt sleeves up. Mycroft rolled his eyes. _Always a flare for the dramatic, this one._

 

"There's no reason for you to reject the position. You have 8 months before your assignment starts. And I assure you it will be worth your efforts. You will have a fully equipped lab at your disposal. Don't let your Cambridge bias influence this decision. Or your reluctance to leave that charming little neighbourhood."

 

Helena huffed.

 

"Come now, I'm quite sure you'll come to appreciate the many charms of living in Oxfordshire."

 

"Your confidence is appalling."

 

"I always win."

 

"You shouldn't be so very sure of yourself. One of these days you're going to be blindsided."

 

Mycroft snorted.

 

"Oh, and cousin."

 

"Yes?"

 

"As dashing as you look in it, I must say that your suit is looking a little tight darling. Best lay off elevenses for a spell."

 

"I've actually lost half-a-stone."

 

.............

 

 

Posturing had led to denial which somehow led to spending the summer hiding out in Paris.

 

"I am NOT hiding. It's Paris Charles, I hardly need an excuse." She vehemently denied when he'd suggested she was trying to escape the inevitable on hearing her plan.

"It's not like I need the money." Came the retort when he'd observed she'd hardly be allowed to take that much time off work.

"It's what's happening Charles." Was her final say on the subject. Followed by, "You're welcome to join us of course. Perhaps the last week in August?"

 

Helena had been a whirlwind of nervous energy ever since she'd come home after confronting Mycroft and debriefed Charles. She'd stormed through the quaint Victorian semi-detached property, bounding up the stairs to greet her daughter. She was a bundle of manic excitement, something that did not go unnoticed by the two other members of her household. Helena had swept up her little girl and announced, "Bath-time!" Distracted enough that she hadn't noticed that Christina was already in her night-clothes.

 

The tactful duo shrugged having a silent conversation that said...

 

"But I've already taken a bath Myka."

"I know sweetie but just go along with it."

"Okay, but Mummy is acting a little crazy."

"Yup, your mother is sure acting weird."

That was the gist, more or less, of their silent exchange.

 

And so Christina had a bath for the second time that evening. Helena passed her onto Myka to dry and dress and had stormed off to have a shower herself. And that's when the two of them set to figuring out the mystery. Like co-conspirators, they were both speaking in stage whispers.

 

"Something's wrong with Mummy." Christina stated matter-of-factly, suppressing a yawn.

 

"You're right munchkin she is definitely acting strange. Do you want a fresh pair of PJs or the same ones?"

 

"The same ones. Do you know what it is?" The inquisitive tone in the child-like inflection and the fluttering of sleepy eyes brought an adoring smile to Myka's face before she set it in a let's-get-down-to-business-and-figure-this-out expression.

 

"I have no clue Miss Wells but I bet we could solve this puzzle between the two of us." She winked.

 

"Wells and Bering solving puzzles." Grinned Christina.

  
"Bering and Wells." Corrected Myka with mock seriousness.

 

"Okay, Bering and Wells." Christina offered suppressing another yawn. Dressed, toweled off, high fives, yawns and fist bumps later they started hatching their plan.

 

Their 'plan' was the simplicity of genius. Myka would make Helena a calming brew of Chamomile flowers and Christina would snuggle into her arms for a story. The rest would work itself out. Myka was pretty sure the child would be drifting off with Wynkin, Blynkin and Nod by the time she settled in her mother's arms.

 

As it happened, Christina couldn't keep her eyes open or stop yawning. The second bath had lulled her almost to sleep. Myka settled her into bed with a kiss on her forehead. The youngest Wells protested between violent yawns, eyes mostways closed but did as she was told. Myka kissed her again and ran her fingers through soft dark hair, "Our super-dooper detective skills will have to wait until tomorrow lovebug."

 

Helena, showered and heavenly and robed, appeared just then with that signature enigmatic smile of hers. No longer a grade-five tornado in their wake, her demeanor was noticeably less agitated. Myka, on the other hand, was noticeably more so. They held each other's gaze for a fraction too long for comfort. Myka gulped quietly. Helena was unabashedly smirking this time.

 

"Super-dooper detective skills, darling? I think it's time you filled me in on the recent exploits of Wells and Bering."

 

Myka flashed her a shy crooked smile that just about killed her, "It's Bering and Wells."

 

.............

 

"Please say something darling. Do you not wish to spend the summer in Paris with us?" Helena was utterly perplexed by the other woman's silence. Misunderstanding, Myka had felt strangely bereft at hearing the news. As a sense of comprehension flickered across that lovely face, Helena thought the young woman looked like a child lost in the midst of an overwhelming crowd.

 

"You want me to come with you?" She had asked as if entirely unable to fathom such a thing.

 

"Well of course I want you to come with us. Why on earth would you think you weren't wanted?" She responded softly.

 

"Oh, I just thought since you said you were taking some time off work. I thought you wouldn't, you know, need me around."

 

"Myka." She caressed the name with her voice. "You are both wanted and needed. Please do me the great honour of accompanying me and my daughter to Paris."

 

"Thank you. Yes. Of course. I would love to!" That lovely face lit up with pure joy. "I've always dreamed of going to Paris."

 

"And to Paris you shall go." Helena grinned widely.

And thus, Paris...

 

.............

 

Why the blazes Helena had decided on such a misguided path to nobility, by serial dating all of Oxford, would have left anyone who'd observed the ladies that summer at a complete loss. Charles who'd only recently become aware of this strange development was convinced it proved the rumours of his sister's intellect must be greatly exaggerated.

 

"You're an idiot." Was all he could muster at his first attempt to address the bizarre turn of events.

 

"You're a bloody idiot," was the best he managed the second time.

 

On the third he'd found his words, "What the bloody hell Georgie. I, for one, remember Paris I wish you bloody well would for all your sakes. Seriously, who the fucking fuck is Nate?"

 

She did remember Paris.

 

She could not stop remembering Paris. The wonderful and the weird of it. They had stayed in her family's exquisite 5-bedroom Parisian apartment steps from Boulevard Saint Germain. It's location was perfect, in the 7th arrondissement but bordering the 6th, just a few blocks from Place Saint-Germain-des-Prés and all the distractions the neighbourhood had to offer: museums, shops, gardens and nightlife.

 

The look on Myka's face when she'd shown her the terrace that first night was absolutely priceless. Helena had thought there must be few things in the world more beautiful than that face looking down on the city enraptured. "Thank you for bringing me here Helena. I don't know how I could ever thank you enough for this. It's all so much better than I could have ever imagined." She'd said with quiet awe.

 

"You're very welcome darling. That you're here with me, with us, is thanks enough. To be honest, I'm only sorry I didn't bring you here sooner. If only to hear you prattle away fluently in French." She teased before adding "and that look of delight you had on your face just now is really quite addicting." She winked and brought the glass of red wine to her lips.

 

Sparkling green eyes turned to meet hers, a question brimming at the edges, before she looked away lost in the city below. "You're too good to me."

 

Helena pursed her lips her eyes frowning, herself holding back a question. She could hear it in the younger woman's voice, the part where she hadn't added..."and I don't deserve it." It was then that she realised just how little she knew of Myka's past. Who or what had caused such a kind, lovely person to think so little of herself?

 

Helena had been quite sure for a long time that Myka deserved every good thing, only the very best things. She'd held back on more than one occasion when she'd longed to know more about the rather private woman, but felt it would be best if she was invited to so. Not wanting to intrude, she'd held her peace despite wanting to understand so very much more about the beautiful, sometimes awkward nanny. But there and then she'd resolved to use their time in Paris to gently draw her out.

 

Myka had felt it must be some sort of dream. She'd been sure of it when she'd laid eyes on the rooftop garden with views of the Seine. She'd almost felt the need to draw blood from her fingers just to make sure, especially when Helena looked at her in that particular way of hers. Especially then.

 

.............

 

"What would you like to do today Myka?"

"I was thinking, since it's such a beautiful day maybe we could take Christina to the Luxembourg Gardens."

Christina was playing hide-and-seek with the neighbour's one-eyed cat, Quasimodo, seemingly too engrossed to pay attention to the adults.

"Is that really your wish, or are you thinking how best to divert the little Monkey?" Helena was touched that her first thought would be for her daughter's amusement, but she was keen for the young woman to understand that this was as much her holiday as it was theirs.

"You know it's quite alright if you want to explore the city on your own darling. I'm a selfish creature by nature and would prefer to have you with us, but I would never want to stop you from enjoying your time here to the fullest. Please don't feel obliged-"

"Helena, you've been nothing but thoughtful. This whole trip. And truly I would very much like to spend the day wandering the palace and gardens. I mean, if you'd like to. I-I've heard it's quite beautiful. And the literary connections would interest me."

"They are quite beautiful...But you want to see where Marius first meets Cosette." Helena smiled knowing well the woman's love of literature.

"Yes." Myka laughed at how transparent she must be.

"So the gardens then?"

 Myka nodded.

.............

 

Catalyst had always been one of Charles' favourite words, closely followed by agent, salacious and button.

 

Yes, she certainly does remember Paris, the French Riviera, all of it. As the kettle continues to boil and whistle and three quarters of a minute becomes an eternity.  
She remembers it.

 

Helena had been annoyed by Charles' sudden arrival.

 

"I was invited." He states simply. "You invited me."

 

He says for emphasis breezing through the apartment as if he owned the place. Which he does of course, partly. Her arms are crossed as if the physical gesture will restrain her rising frustration at his presence.

 

"I said the last week of August, Charles." And she knows she sounds petulant.

 

"You said maybe, Georgie. And what difference does it make? It's August." He is looking at her in that infuriating way of his.

 

"Where are you staying?" She asks noticing the lack of luggage. Hope rising with this observation. Before he responds Christina who has just run into the room chasing after Quasimodo launches herself into his arms, "Uncle Chars, you came!"

  
"I missed you too much to stay away Cricket." Helena is slightly less annoyed at the sight of her daughter so clearly overjoyed to be reunited with him.

  
Distracted by the sight of the ugly furball sneaking back out again, Christina wriggles out of his arms to chase the cat. "What the Dickens." He exclaims confused by the presence of the neighbour's escapist pet.

  
"One second." She yells back at her uncle.

  
"Where were we? Yes, well we, all of us, will be staying in a lovely little place in Menton for a couple days. I've sent my luggage ahead. We leave tomorrow morning."

  
Helena clenched her jaw. "Charles." Her tone was dangerous.

  
"Oh and I think I'll stay in the blue bedroom tonight."

  
"Myka's staying in the blue-"

 

Charles cut her off having seen Myka enter the room before his sister did. He grinned at the sight of her, always lovely and now well-tanned. "No worries, the more the merrier. I do like to cuddle." He winked across the room. Myka rolled her eyes but was smiling indulgently. There it was again Helena thought. That previously unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her stomach, jealousy.

 

As much as she was conflicted by her brother's disruptive presence. Once they were lying on a beach near Menton she had to admit this unexpected trip to the south of France was inspired. Seeing Myka in a tiny bandeau-top combat-print bikini was almost worth vying with Charles for her attention. Not that there ever was any contest. Firstly, all of Myka's attention, as always, was firmly on Christina. Secondly, as impossible as it was to comprehend, Myka was completely unaware of her looks and therefore completely oblivious to the competition she'd instigated. Helena was very aware of how women tended to respond to her brother,  being 10 years older and as such with 10 more years to perfect the craft of seduction. An impartial observer would note that he was well-spoken, well-mannered and well-dressed. He also like his sister was ridiculously good-looking, albeit much taller.

 

But to modest, oblivious Myka...to her, Charles was simply her employer's very charming, very handsome, very flirtatious brother. As far as she was concerned these were his attributes and were not in anyway being directed towards herself. And it was the same with Helena. Although, pressed to think about it there would have been a pang of regret accompanying that understanding. Her employer was very charming, very beautiful and very very flirtatious. Attributes that, as far as she was concerned, were not directed towards her specifically. It was just the Wells DNA. And as a person can only see what they are expecting to see. Myka did not see the almost pained look in Helena's eyes when she cocked her head towards the water, an unspoken "will you join us for a swim" the same addicting look of delight gracing her lips. She is entirely unaware of just how sexy she is in that moment and just how softly that gesture is killing Helena. The curly-haired goddess walks into the water, involuntarily shrieking as cold waves crash against the long legs swiftly being swallowed by sea. She turns round again and waves.

 

And Helena remembers dying.

 

.............

 

The award-winning engineer knows somewhere in the recesses of that brilliant mind of hers that 'this', 'this' is not simply an infatuation. This relationship is not like anything she has previously experienced. What she wants from it, if she would give voice to the want of it, is something more than she has ever desired. Somewhere in 'this', Helena _knows_ is everything.

 

However.

 

What she will admit to herself is somehow miles from the truth of the matter. Miles and miles. And that distance, if she would allow herself the necessary luxury of really thinking about it, is born of fear. As it is, she does not. As it is, she uses that paltry word, infatuation, as a shield to protect herself from the frightening truth. Somewhere just behind the lids of her dark eyes, somewhere hovering between parted lips, in the left corner of her heart, in the nearness of two bodies not quite touching, somewhere there Helena knows she is irrevocably in love.

 

She scarcely allows herself to admit how ridiculously jealous she is becoming. Menton for instance. What should have been the sweetness of days spent languidly basking on the shore of the azure sea had become the sweetness of a particular brand of torture, and Helena was no masochist by nature. She had been counting them at first, the knifelike pangs that assaulted her whenever they occurred, for whatever reason they occurred. And really, reason had nothing to do with anything. She was being supremely irrational. Like when Charles would share some tidbit of local history while standing too close to Myka in that way of his and her face would animate with interest. When waiters would hover a little too long, a little too close, pass by a little too often. She was even jealous of melting vanilla ice cream being captured by Myka's deft tongue as it trickled down the cone.

 

She stopped counting after a particular moment with her daughter. Christina was wrapped around Myka who was twirling her around in the pool and slow dancing to the music blaring from the speakers from the beach bar nearby. Her daughter still mesmerised by the woman's wet curls had been playing with them as they swirled around in the water together. She heard the conversation as the little girl's attention shifted elsewhere. "I really like these." Christina's hands were innocently grabbing at Myka's bust. The woman burst out laughing before replying, "Is that right?" The girl nodded. "They're pretty." Myka had just shook her head, kissed 'thank you' into the child's cheek and rocked and swayed to the music. "Myka?" The girl had latched on to a stray curl. "Yeah babygirl?"

  
"Can I marry you when I'm old?" She asked earnestly. Explaining, "Mummy says I can't marry her or Uncle Chars. Can I marry you?"

  
"You want to marry me?" Adoration for the little girl had lit up her face.

  
Christina nodded vigorously in affirmation.

  
"You are the cutest thing Christina Wells, do you know that?" They continued dancing and giggling together. Helena didn't hear the rest of their banter as Charles shouted something in her direction about drinks and did she want anything from the bar.

 

Yes, Helena needed to stop counting the pangs.

 

What she needed was to engage in a little deductive reasoning. She needed to tap into that part of her that absolutely knew what was really going on. And if there were enough self-awareness or will to admit such a truth she would know there was a moment within a moment in which this became irrepressible, unstoppable, eternal. And there was a moment within a moment following, that almost caused this truth to escape the confines of her mind in vivid colour.

 

The first takes place after Menton and after her return to Paris. It is the first moment in which some things are revealed and others are left unspoken. Helena had been summoned quite mysteriously back to London a couple days before the incident. A blue folder may or may not have been in play. Charles had quite graciously, if not entirely selflessly, postponed his return home to stay with Christina and Myka in the meantime. Helena had been simultaneously grateful and irritated with his gentlemanly pronouncement, "Not to worry Georgie. I'll keep a close eye on the ladies for you."

 

"I'm sure you will." She'd muttered under her breath just low enough to go unheard.

 

Had Charles been privy to the complete and utter havoc being wreaked in his sister's overactive mind he would have had grave grave doubts concerning her mental acuity. Charles had seen enough to know that he need not ever try his hand at winning the young woman's affections. Her affections were clearly otherwise engaged. He had closely observed his sister and Myka, noting how a bubble of intimacy surrounded even their most mundane interactions. Even in silent moments together they spoke their own language. Adding Christina in the mix only solidified their unnamed bond further. The three of them orbited around each other in their own little universe in all its inherent chaos. Yes, Charles saw 'this' and it pleased him indeed.

 

.............

 

"Mummy!" The girl's beaming face filled the screen and lips attacked it. "Did you get my kiss?" More giggles. "Are you coming?" Dark brown eyes framed by black lashes, flashed across the screen, a rosy cheek, an ear, wavy black hair.

 

"Yes, Monkey. I'm coming back tonight." All she wanted to do was gather the little girl close to her and hold her tight.

 

"Hooray!"

 

"I miss you." Helena sounded exhausted. She was impatient to be home again. Home. She'd never given much thought to it. But sipping her morning tea in her normally cozy drawing room without Christina chattering happily away curled into her side, without Myka's serene presence, the space felt uncharacteristically cold and empty. She had been in London for three harrowing days, and home was starting to feel very far away somehow.

  
"I've missed you so so much my love." She sighed into the tablet. Raven hair brushing the screen.

 

"I know." Wide innocent eyes stated matter-of-factly.

 

"Cheeky. You know?" Helena had to suppress a laugh in an attempt at mock-seriousness.

 

The girl nodded furiously.

 

"I know. We are all here. And you are there." Christina shrugged and threw both her hands up before being distracted by something.

 

"I can hear Quasimodo. Okay Goodbye Mummy!" Tiny rosebud lips mashed up against the screen again followed by a satisfied smirk and then a view of the ceiling. Helena then heard a door opening, her child squealing and a cat's meow.

 

"Christina?" She signed off and shook her head. _Three year olds and their priorities_. The smile that had lingered following her brief conversation with her daughter disappeared, replaced by frown lines that settled on her brow as she contemplated the day's schedule and the meetings that awaited her.

 

Helena's phone rang and the frown deepened.

 

.............

 

Helena's heart was hammering uncontrollably by the time she reached the apartment. She had left London with a sense of foreboding and arrived in Paris with a tightly wound knot in her stomach. She felt utterly sick. The short flight had arrived half an hour late and the private car she'd hired had gotten hopelessly stuck in traffic. She'd practically thrown the fare at the driver, almost forgotten her carry-on luggage in the boot of the car, and made a mad dash to the building, luggage bouncing up and down in tow. For once she cursed her vanity for having worn such impractical foot ware as she nearly went over her ankle when her heel snagged a chip in the pavement. All blood was drained from her face by the time she arrived at the threshold of the apartment, finding the door left slightly ajar and strange sounds of scuffling and banging. Pale-faced and wild-eyed she rushed carelessly towards the commotion her mind frantically offering up her daughter's name in a silent prayer.

 

It was unlike them not to respond. She had texted both Myka and Charles as soon as the plane had landed and then called from Arrivals. There was no word from either of them and the unease she had felt on leaving London multiplied a thousand-fold, when faced with their silence.

 

On entering the library, the anxious mother heard a loud crash. Groans and cries of "Bloody hell!" and "Wait. Stop, stop" and "We can explain" in response to a steely voice demanding, "Who are you?" and "What do you want with us?" and "Take your mask off now!"

 

Helena quickly grabbed a letter opener from the writing bureau to use as a weapon. She could scarcely believe her eyes when she flipped on the lights. Myka was towering like one of the Furies of legend pointing one of the wrought iron pokers from the fireplace at someone's neck. The intruder, clad entirely in black, was kneeling with his hands above his head in surrender. When Helena recovered enough from the sight of her nanny in full-on warrior mode to tear her eyes away from her, she noticed the others. Two more hulk-sized men were strewn on the floor, obviously writhing in pain.

 

"Helena! You're back." Myka's eyes softened as she greeted the bewildered inventor.

 

"Unfortunately not soon enough I see. It seems I've just missed out on the action." Helena took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings.

 

A side table was toppled over onto its side. Books were everywhere on the floor. The curtains were sporting a large vertical gash all the way to the floor. Other than that there was surprisingly little actual damage." Are you alright darling?...Where is Christina?"-

 

As if on cue, Christina crept out from her hiding place and made her presence known by tugging on her mother's trousers. "Are you alright darling? Were you terribly frightened?" The child shook her head as Helena picked up her little girl and held her tight. Almost frantically kissing her daughter's cheeks and hands. "Slow down Mummy."

 

"You're unwell my love." Helena said surprised. She placed a hand to Christina's forehead. "You've got a fever darling." Kissing the girl's crown.

 

Christina shrugged. "I'm okay." "Don't worry Mummy. I'm okay."

 

Helena's attention was divided between immediate concern for her daughter's health and the issue of the mystery assailants. "You better start talking." She'd heard Myka almost growl at the attacker in front of her, pressing the firepoker into his jugular.

  
Helena in that moment was ashamed to admit to herself that her attention was further divided by how sexy she was finding Myka's heroics.

 

"Now!" Myka commanded, giving the man the glare of death as she did so.

 

"Alright. Alright." He sputtered slightly dazed.

 

There was the creaking of a door widening and some whistling, followed by the appearance of a very confused, very indignant English gentleman.

 

"What the devil happened here?" Charles sauntered in just then slightly inebriated. The cause of his late arrival evidenced by the ruby red lipstick mark on his shirt collar.

 

When Helena's telephone rang all the blood rushed back in her face. With the voice of a myriad angry mothers, Helena hissed, "Mycroft you bloody bastard. I'm going to kill you with my bare hands."

 

.............

 

"We were just following orders, err Miss..."

  
"Yeah, yeah we were just doing as told. You passed the test though, hey? No harm done."

 

"No harm done? Are you--cover your ears Christina--out of YOUR FRACKING MIND? I could have killed one of you! What the hell is the matter with you? That little girl could have been traumatised for the rest of her life."

 

"No worries Miss. What's a couple broken ribs, hey? The Boss gave us clear orders-"

 

"Well your 'Boss' is obviously--keep them covered sweetie--a major asshole. And possibly criminally insane. Who the frack- Forget it. Here...call him. I want to talk to this psycho right now."

 

To say Myka was fuming would be an understatement of epic proportions. She was shaking with rage and hugging her arms to herself in a desperate bid not to throttle the captured men into making some actual sense. She was absolutely beside herself at the thought that she could have inflicted serious harm, physical and psychological, because of some demented security assessment.

 

Helena had been both utterly horrified by what had transpired that evening and completely fascinated by the turn of events. She couldn't keep her eyes off the livid yet lovely brunette. She had never heard her nanny so much as raise her voice, let alone seen her raise her hand to anything. The mild-mannered American had never divulged her apparently extensive self-defense skills. Her resume was impressive to be sure. The woman went to university on a fencing scholarship, spoke French and Arabic fluently, had double majored in Classics and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, amongst her various accomplishments. But nowhere had she revealed special forces level combat training. This is a most interesting development, she had thought to herself. A most interesting development indeed. Seeing the woman looking all glorious with protective rage was definitely a powerful aphrodisiac.

 

"Righty-ho then, you three, out! Go back to that miserable hole you crawled out from. Do you need me to call for an ambulance?"

 

"Err no, Dr. Wells no one's supposed to know we're in the country. Security breach and all that. We'll just be on our way then. Sorry about your curtains." With that they dragged themselves up and limped out of the apartment shamefaced.

 

"Myka, I can explain darling. The thing is, I know the psycho behind this." Helena informed her apologetically.

 

Myka had uncrossed her arms to rub the back of her neck astonished by the pronouncement, "What? You do?"

 

"Yes, unfortunately, I do." Helena was looking straight at Myka when she replied. Running her fingers through her inky tresses and sighing in contemplation of that fact. "It's complicated."

 

"Who the fucking fuck Georgie? Charles was smashed enough that the identity of the possible mastermind had escaped him entirely. Feeling slightly light-headed from confusion, he had plopped himself on the vintage chestnut leather couch. Myka had shot him a withering look which Christina intercepted and dutifully covered her ears without being asked this time.

 

"Who the bloody hell do you know that would be deranged enough to- Oh for fuck's sake-" Understanding finally dawning in his reddened eyes, "Mycroft? Bloody hell Georgie, what's he about?"

 

"Charles you know how he's always trying to arrange all of us like his blasted chess pieces. It's another one of his assignments. You know, for Queen and country. This time it's for a job based in Oxford."

 

"I think all those diets have addled his brain."

 

"Too right."

 

"Could someone please explain to me what's going on?" Myka pleaded rubbing her forehead to ease the sudden throbbing pain.

 

"Of course darling. I'm sorry you were caught in the middle of this. It's just a family squabble. You see Mycroft is our cousin. He was trying to teach me a lesson. And well, I don't think he was expecting...well... you. You quite blindsided him my dear." The engineer smirked at the thought. "You were quite spectacular. Wherever did you learn to fight like that? Please don't tell me you're secretly working with the CIA."

 

"Not quite. But I did want to be Secret Service when I was seven."

 

"Well, you would have made a wonderful agent darling. The best." Helena winked.

 

Myka turned a delightful shade of rose, "It's just...I just got so freaked out when Christina and I were being followed. Remember? So I signed up for mixed martial arts and self-defense training at the community centre. The trainer is actually former SAS. I don't know. Guess I just wanted to be prepared."

 

"Scoff at Brixton again will you Charles? Apparently, we have one bloody marvelous community centre. MI-6 ought to recruit from there."

 

"Quite." Charles said yawning.

 

"Can I open my ears now?" Christina shouted.

 

Helena lowered her daughter's hands and kissed her palms. "I'm so sorry for neglecting you my darling. How are you feeling Monkey?" The mother covered the little girl's forehead with light butterfly kisses. "Did I mention how much I missed you?" Christina nodded vigorously. "Because I did (kiss) very much (kiss). "You're still a little warm my love. Mummy's going to tuck you into bed, alright love. Say your goodnights."

 

"Goodnight Uncle Chars!" Christina pounced on her uncle who was almost half-asleep before the friendly assault. "Sweetdreams Cricket."

 

She ran to Myka and grabbed her legs in a fierce hug. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. Goodnight Myka!"

 

Myka crouched for a cuddle. "Goodnight lovebug. Love you (kiss to her nose) too (kisses to her cheeks). You were very brave tonight, you really were."

 

The little girl nodded yawning. "I know."

 

Helena smirked and shook her head. Christina really was cut from the same cloth as her mother.

 

.............

 

 

With the girl soundly sleeping, Helena had gone to tidy up the library merely to find that Myka had already done so. She had even thoughtfully covered her brother with a knit throw. Charles was out cold, snoring intermittently. The younger sister felt a rare surge of affection for the slumbering snob. A feeling that probably had more to do with a particular green-eyed American than she cared to dwell on.

 

Walking towards the brunette's bedroom, her thoughts wandered where they frequently were want to lately. Something had pulled her closer and without second guessing herself, she knocked on the woman's door, "It's only me darling. I wanted to say goodnight."

 

"Oh, come in Helena. One sec I'm-" The older woman briefly caught sight of the woman's bare back and blue hipster shorts as she slipped on a matching camisole. It was a sight that darkened already dark eyes and had them fluttering in surprise. "I'm sorry."

  
"No, you're good. Come in." Myka replied turning around. She rubbed her left upper arm shyly. "Welcome back Helena." The smile that graced the woman's face was a veritable dance of emotions that the scientist couldn't work out. Whether she was imagining the joy that was written there or not, it was mesmerising nonetheless.  
"Are you okay?"

 

Helena cleared her throat. She had clearly been staring. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."

  
Mentally berating herself for her lack of coherence. "It's been a strange night."

 

"Very." Myka nodded gently. Cocking her head to the left. Her unspoken question seemed to ask if she really was alright. She sat down on the bed, gesturing for Helena to join her. "How's Christina? We got her some medicine from the pharmacy earlier. Should kick in soon." She offered as Helena seated herself next to her.

 

"Thank you. She seemed better-" "Myka."

 

"Helena." She chuckled thinking her employer must be tipsy with sleep. 

 

"Thank you for protecting my daughter." Emotion threatened to takeover. Helena had scarce allowed herself to consider the what ifs. At her level of expertise, her work did have the potential of putting her loved ones in harms way. Christina hadn't been in any real danger tonight. Mycroft had only been trying to show her the truth of the situation, and yet...One day it might not be Mycroft. What if someone really had tried to hurt her daughter. What if Myka hadn't been there or she hadn't gotten there on time. Helena's eyes started to water. "I can't even imagine-"

 

"She's okay Helena." Myka reached out and squeezed her hand. "I didn't do anything. I mean, I don't understand it but it seems she wasn't in any real danger tonight. Those clowns were though. God I could've killed them."

 

Helena shook her head and turned to face the other woman. "Myka, I won't have you belittling your heroism. When it appeared you were under attack. When it appeared my daughter was in danger. You hurled yourself at 3 giant masked invaders. That darling, is everything...I could never repay you for that."

 

It was Myka's turn to shake her head. "I'd do anything to keep her safe. I know you've noticed that your kid is completely adorable."

 

Helena chuckled and wiped at her eyes that were perilously close to tearing over, nodding. "I may have noticed."

 

"I would do anything I could to protect her." She said seriously. Then grinning at a memory she confided, "The truth is I was sort of completely smitten from day one."

 

"The cafe?"

 

"No, the bakery. Completely, hopelessly smitten."

 

Helena looked away from her reluctantly. Frightened by what her eyes would reveal. She squeezed Myka's hand and automatically lifted it to her lips and kissed it lightly before letting go. "Thank you Myka Bering. For loving my daughter." She tried to mask her feelings with an overtly flirtatious smirk, "And for saving the day."

 

She winked and mouthed goodnight before the younger woman could process anything herself.

 

.............

 

From Paris back to Brixton, the days passed and the rhythm of their life changed with the scenery. Helena who had never been an anxious mother, had become clingy and paranoid overnight following Mycroft's bizarre interpretation of an intervention. So much so that Myka had had to stage an actual intervention one Sunday afternoon. She'd broached the topic with Charles who couldn't have agreed more,"It's about bloody time. If we let Georgie go on like this that child is going to escape on the first ship to Tuvalu when she turns sixteen." So they'd had a secret family meeting to discuss how to go about it on the Wednesday that Helena had been summoned to Oxford for further negotiations. A trip which under the circumstances had greatly distressed the engineer and thus lead to one too many texts, calls and Skypes during the day.

 

In preparation, Myka read everything she could to guarantee its success. "We have to make sure, she feels safe you guys. It's so important she doesn't feel like she's being attacked or accused of being a bad mother or undermined in anyway." The woman was slowly pacing up and down the length of the elder Wells' very grand living room as she spoke. "I mean has she been acting a little-?"

 

"I think the word you're looking for my dear is crazy. Absolutely fucking insane, oh bollocks, sorry Cricket."

 

Myka glared at him.

 

His niece softly whispered, "You're in trouble now."

 

"Okay. Yeah. Sure she has. But you know what, she's just worried because she loves Christina so much. I mean it's coming from a good place. So we have to make sure she knows how much we love her. You know?" Charles nodded sagely and took another swig of some very expensive scotch, ruminating over all the different ways they loved his sister. At this point he had no doubt in his mind that Myka truly loved Helena. What he had yet to determine without a shadow of doubt is whether that love was platonic in nature or if it could involve shirtless hugging. The man might be a godawful snob but he was fiercely protective of his family and his primary concern was for their welfare. Something about this curly-haired woman led him to believe that she could in fact be vital to his sister's future happiness. He downed the last of the scotch and determined to suss out the matter.

 

Needless to say, she hadn't seen it coming. They'd thought it best to leave the bulk of the talking to Christina. Charles had a white t-shirt printed on for his little niece featuring a couple palm trees and the words 'Tuvalu or Bust.'

 

"Mummy. You know I love you, don't you?" Christina reached out for her mother's hand, making sure to display her sweetest looking smile as she did so.

  
"Yes darling. As I love you. Very much." She replied, looking somewhat confused by the now four-year-old's almost theatrical declaration.

  
"We need to talk Mummy." The child declared and promptly enveloped as much of her mother in her tiny arms. Myka was trying to suppress an involuntary smile from taking over her face. Charles snorted in a failing attempt to better school his features.

 

"What about my love?"

 

"Me."

 

"You?"

The little brunette nodded earnestly.

 

"Alright then." The woman turned to the other adults in the room with a 'do you guys know what this is about' look on her face.

Charles gave her a 'of course we bloody know what this is about, this is a long overdue inverention but I'm going to lose my shit any minute now because my niece is too bloody cute' look in return.

Myka nodded gently and looked vaguely apologetic but was mostly desperately concentrating on keeping a neutral face.

Christina pointed at her t-shirt.

"This has something to do with a remote Pacific island?...You want to go to Tuvalu?"

The girl shook her head adamantly. "No. I don't want to go."

"Darling, whatever is the matter my love?"

"Helena, you're a great mother." Myka stepped into get the discussion started.

"But?"

"No. Just you're a great mother."

"A wonderful mother." Charles added.

"Alright then. And?" Helena was becoming quite impatient.

"And it's because you're such a great mother that Christina is growing up to be such a happy, well adjusted person of her own."

"I'm happy Mummy."

"So glad to hear that darling." Helena couldn't help feel she'd stepped into some odd alternate reality.

"And she's safe. She's safe and -"

"I feel very safe Mummy."

 

"Oh for -Georgie, we love you but you've got to get a grip and stop worrying. You've been out of your mind since Mycroft's idiotic stunt in Paris. Christina is perfectly fine. You have to stop smothering the child."

"I am doing no such thing!" Erupted Helena.

"Charles!" Myka hissed.

"Sorry Myka. We tried it your way. It's just too bloody American all this pussyfooting around the issue. This isn't healthy, Georgie. You know it."

"You can't continue on like this, or you might as well encase the girl in bronze." He added to stress his point.

"Oh."

Helena ran her fingers back through her dark hair.

 

"Helena..."

"No, it's quite alright darling. Charles is right."

"I'm fine Mummy."

Helena grabbed the little girl in arms and squeezed her tight. "You're perfect."

"I know."

Helena laughed into her daughter's neck. And pulled back to run a thumb over her chubby cheek.

"Tuvalu darling?"

The girl shrugged. "Ask Uncle Chars."

 

.............

 

Charles had taken Christina out to the park and then some ice cream leaving the two of them alone in the garden. Helena who had had another split-second of wild-eyed panic at the suggestion of being separated from her daughter once more that day, acquiesced when she caught sight of her daughter's eager face. Charles had made it a point that mother and nanny not come along. "I'll bring dessert. Something chocolate?"

 

Helena had been frowning, staring fixedly for quite some time at the Victorian pavilion in the distance.

 

"Helena? Are you okay?" Myka asked softly unsure of whether it was her place to draw the woman out.

 

"I'm sorry darling. Yes. I'm just thinking about the meeting I had today."

 

"Oh. Okay. Sorry to interrupt your thoughts."

 

"Not at all. You are always a welcome interruption." The words came freely and without reservation. Myka's eyes lit up.

 

The older woman sighed. "Well, actually I need to talk to you about something as it involves yourself and your plans for your future."

 

Myka nodded for her to continue but was visibly nervous.

 

"Shall we go inside. I'm feeling parched. Would you like some tea?"

 

Myka nodded again and followed. A sinking feeling settling into the pit of her stomach.

 

They were mostly silent until they were sat on a two-seater with their respective brews in a lovely corner overlooking the garden. Myka couldn't help but notice they were sat impossibly close. Their knees touching. For Helena it had been deliberate. She wanted to physically guard their closeness for as long as possible. Well aware that she might be about to lose it after their conversation.

 

"Myka, I've agreed to take the job in Oxford."

 

"Congratulations." Her voice was almost strangled.

 

"Thank you darling."

 

"When. When will you be leaving." Myka could barely get her words out. She was struggling to breath.

 

"Soon. In a month's time actually."

 

"Wow. Ok I guess I should start thinking about my next move as well huh." She had to be careful not to spill the liquid as she placed the teacup back on the side table with a trembling hand. She clutched her hands tight into her lap. Nodding absentmindedly. "That's got to be so exciting for you and Christina. I mean, Oxford sounds like it would be a great place for both of you." The brunette bit down on her lower lip to keep from more inane chatter. She silently cursed herself for losing her composure so unexpectedly. Really, what was the matter with her. She hadn't planned on being a nanny for the rest of her life. This arrangement was always going to be temporary. This was just a very well payed job so she could pay off some debts and save up for grad school, right? It had been a pleasant one to be sure. She would miss them of course. But it was a job at the end of the day. Why was she so upset. This wasn't a rejection. This was life moving on and she needed to move on too. This was good. This was necessary. Oh God, but she needed to be able to breathe. And she definitely needed not to cry.

 

Helena was too caught up in her own feelings to notice the turmoil the younger woman was in following her announcement. She had been actively avoiding eye-contact and was entirely unaware that Myka was very close to tears.

 

She took a deep breath and reached for Myka's knee. Holding it firmly as if to ground herself to broach the subject that was turning in her mind.

 

"I was hoping that you would come with me. Us."

 

Myka was silent.

 

"Please hear me out first and have think about it. I've been reluctantly recruited. That's an understatement but I don't have the liberty of discussing that further. I don't know what your plans are now. I know that you're saving up for further studies. Obviously you're not planning on making a career of being a full-time nanny. And I would never want that for you. You're far too brilliant to waste that mind of yours."

 

She paused as if unsure as to how to continue. "Because of my reluctance. I specified certain requirements during the negotiations. A list of demands if you will. One of them was that they agree to cover your tuition fees. So you would be able to study the domain of your choosing, to any degree that you wished to attain at the university and on your time table. Christina will be starting school. I thought it might...it could work out so that we could get to keep you without getting in the way of your plans. I realise you might find this a ridiculous proposition. But I had to do my best to persuade you." Helena was rambling nervously. She had removed her hand from Myka's knee when she felt the woman tense up underneath her touch and had been playing with her locket.

 

Myka was still silent.

 

"I've never made a secret of the fact that I'm terribly selfish. Terribly." She shot a glance at Myka's face for the first time since she'd started talking. Growing more and more aware of how impossibly close they were sitting. Myka's face was impassive and just as defeat threatened its claws at her insides she was surprised by warm arms around her. Myka had her wrapped in a spontaneous embrace which Helena melted into before the other woman suddenly ripped her body away. She was nodding and shaking her head all at once. Too overwhelmed to speak.

 

"Myka? Was that a yes?"

 

She was staring at Helena confused and happy all at the same time. How was this even possible. That she would be wanted. That was a concept that was difficult for her to comprehend.

 

"I was in your list of demands?" Myka grinned as she realised how strange the negotiations must have been.

 

"The very first thing." Helena affirmed looking quite serious.

 

"Oxford University? Anything I want?" Growing incredulous even as she said it out loud. It sounded preposterous.

 

"Anything you want. Master's, Phd, Post-doc... Anything."

 

"What kind of a job allows you that kind of bargaining power?"

 

"A very specific sort, darling."

 

Concern took over Myka's face as she considered the implications.

 

"Helena, is this what you really want? You don't have to take this job you know. No one has the right to force you into anything against your will." Green-eyes flashed with something so dangerous, so potent in its determination to protect.

 

"I know darling. Don't worry." Helena reached over and squeezed Myka's hand, caressing the back of her hand with her thumb. Gratitude welling up inside her for her presence in their life. In her life. "So, is that a yes then?" She smirked.

 

Myka nodded, placing her hand on top of Helena's. "I guess we're off to Oxford."

 

"Aces!"

 

Myka's laughter was interrupted with the sounds of doors and running feet and Charles clearing his throat at the sight of them sat so closely, hands grasping each other's.

 

"Oxford?"

 

They reluctantly let go of each other.

 

"I'll explain everything Charles."

 

.............

 

And so Oxford with its magnificent spires and parklands and learning was where this wonderous thing between them began to crystallise and where the brilliant Dr. Wells nearly almost bollocks-ed it all.

 

The move from Brixton had been surprisingly easy all things considered. Truth be told the idea of leaving London for any length of time had always been abhorrent to her. She would certainly miss _their_ home, _their_ neighborhood, _their_ favourite bakery. For it had been _theirs_ , hadn't it? Hers, Christina's and Myka's. It had certainly been their home. She had allowed herself to acknowledge that much. She'd told herself she wasn't leaving anything of consequence behind, not really. And it wouldn't be forever, not really. She'd felt strangely upset when she'd told her brother, never once anticipating that she would actually miss his near constant presence in their lives. The minute the words were out of her mouth she realised with some annoyance just how much she was going to miss him, insufferable as he could be. Charles had taken the news badly for all of 37 minutes before announcing that Oxford wasn't all that far and muttering something about looking into purchasing some property in the area.

 

Christina had responded with her usual equanimity, "Can we get a cat Mummy?" To which Helena had promised that she would give the matter some serious thought.

 

The first two months were a blur of house hunting, packing, moving boxes, various meetings and school applications. If not for her daughter's cheeky smile and a pair of emerald eyes radiating excitement, Helena would have felt quite unsure of her decision. As it was, the move was overwhelming for the Inventor in more ways than one. In Brixton, this little family of hers had been safe, cocooned almost by the outside world. Even at work in the bustling environs of London, Helena's peace of mind had been undisturbed knowing that her daughter was in the company of a woman who watched over her girl with the same care and loved her with the same ferocity. She'd never before stopped to consider that her perfect peace was undisturbed for other more selfish reasons. Here, there were new variables. Christina was starting school and would be out of both their sights for one part of the day. Myka's world was also opening up to a new set of experiences and people. And thus naturally, there would come a time for new experiences with new people, surely.

 

Helena ran her fingers through her hair distractedly the first time that unpleasant little thought reared its ugly head. Of course, things wouldn't stay the same. But they were all together now, in this place and it was good. It was good. She kept repeating that to herself every time she felt that dreaded pang, every time that snake coiled round her throat and threatened to sink its fangs into her heart.

  
They were all moving forward and it was good. It had been a good day when they found their house. It was a 6-Bedroom semi-detached Georgian-inspired Victorian property in North Oxford. The villa was on a tree-lined road with access to a private park and boasting its own beautifully designed south-facing rear garden. The minute the realtor pulled up to the property they both looked at each other with a silent "This is the one." Myka's eyes positively danced with delight when she stepped into the library. "Oh my God, Helena this place is amazing." Helena had laughed and hugged herself to stop herself from doing what she truly wanted.

 

It was a good day when they found the right school for Christina. For it truly had been a joint decision. Helena highly valued Myka's opinion, especially as they pertained to her daughter. Myka had keen observational skills and a razor-sharp analytic mind, but more than she that she trusted her gut instincts implicitly. After carefully considering all their options they decided on a small primary school near their home. They were at first put off by the hawkish gaze of the head teacher Mrs. Frederic, thinking perhaps the environment would be too rigid, too traditional for Christina. But they were soon put at ease when they saw the sparkle in the otherwise stern looking woman's eyes when she interviewed them. Christina eagerly chattered away, happily answering all of Mrs. Frederic's questions. The last question, albeit the most unorthodox one, seemed to guarantee the girl's acceptance into the very selective school. The imposing woman had peered through her glasses, her gaze fixed intently on the little girl, "Christina, thank you for conversing with me. You've done very well today." Christina beamed.

 

It was also a good day when they both walked Christina, one hand in either of theirs, to school. It was clear how happy the little girl was to start her first day in Ms. Cho's class. Helena's eyes welled up at the sight of her daughter entering the classroom without so much as a backward glance at her mother. Myka instinctively reached out to place her hand on Helena's shoulder, "Give her ten seconds." And in so many beats, the little girl skipped back out and flew into her mother's arms, "Bye Mummy. Love you Love you Love you." "I love you too darling. Very much. Have a brilliant day my love." Helena squeezed her little girl tightly, wondering at how fast time seemed to be slipping past. When Christina started wriggling free of her mother's arms, she gestured for Myka who had been hanging back to step closer to her. "Love you too Myka." Who could only nod but couldn't quite speak for the lump in her throat. Her eyes now glistening with pride. She chuckled and wiped away a stray tear. "Me too."

 

Yes, so many things were good.

 

But other things, Helena soon came to find, other things were not quite so good. Not good at all as far as Helena was concerned.

 

.............

 

"Georgie." It's the way he says her nickname for the fifth time that has her uncharacteristically silenced. All of a sudden she does feel like the younger sister, and he does sound very much like a concerned older brother. After cursing himself hoarse in the hopes of jolting some sense into his headstrong and apparently heartsick sibling, he sighs and tries a gentler tac.

 

"Do you have any evidence to back up this wild assumption other than the fact that you've seen the two of them conversing in a public setting?" He hears her let out a humph in frustration. "I know what I saw Charles." She snaps. "And it wasn't just a conversation."

 

"Fine then, what exactly did you see Georgie." He pulls at his beard and scratches his cheek lazily.

 

"Coffee was had." She added almost petulantly.

 

"Wait. Coffee, did you say?"

 

"And pastries. I think she was nibbling on a chocolate croissant."

 

"Oh the scandal. A croissant!" He intoned in mock-horror.

 

"You know she doesn't eat sugar Charles." She added exasperated. They all knew that Myka didn't eat sugar. Except Twizzlers. Before they moved to Oxford, Helena had positively cleaned out the entire stock of Twizzlers from the sweet shop in Brixton for Myka's birthday.

 

"Well, then case closed. By God George why didn't you mention this before? New Scotland Yard could certainly use your keen powers of deduction, you positively put our poor cousin to shame." He smirked into the phone.

 

"You didn't see the look on his face." She grimaced recalling the man's eyes all over the young woman. "And she was smiling at him." It was said small but incredulous. Charles sighed on the other end of the line.

 

He would normally have teased her, said something to the effect that beautiful women will always have their admirers or something thereof. Or something along the lines of, "Really my dear it's not like you hired a nun." Perhaps he would have remarked on how tightly wound she seemed. He may have then suggested she needed to get some. Badly. He doesn't though. He says nothing of the sort. The impossibly handsome man pulled at his beard again. And very gently asked, "What is this really about Helena?"

 

There was a long pause. A deep sigh. Charles had the grace to change the subject by keeping her abreast of family gossip and his own romantic complications. "I'm totally fucked Georgie."

 

She rolled her eyes to high heaven, but a smile teased at the corner of her lips.

 

"A dominatrix Charles? I'm familiar with Miss Adler's reputation. I think she might prove a bit much, even for you darling."

 

Helena had not been feeling at all like herself the past several weeks. She had caught herself staring dumbly at her daughter's curly-haired nanny. It was hard enough to tear her eyes away from Myka as it was, but somehow even more so since their move to Oxford. Here, she seemed to positively glow. There was a new lightness in her step, an extra sparkle in her eyes. She smiled more brightly and laughed more readily. And it was making Helena absolutely miserable.

 

Helena was convinced that the insipid blond fellow, this Sam Martino, Myka had befriended was the reason. And Helena was absolutely and utterly, sick-to-her-stomach miserable over it. The thing of it was, the essence of her misery, was that Helena couldn't move past the fear of what would happen if she allowed herself to act on her 'infatuation.' It was inappropriate was it not, having the hots for the nanny? Cliché, surely. Scandalous, even. She was the young woman's employer for goodness' sake. And the blessed thing of it was, the thing of the thing, was that Myka had never just been the nanny. Myka had always been, more. And that was something Helena was not allowing herself to think about. There is a balance to things, a harmony that is too easily upset by the force of such passions. What Helena felt in her gut was a violence and a storm that if unleashed could easily destroy the planet countless times over. Well, mostly the threat of violence was directed towards Sam Martino and any unfortunates unlucky enough to be caught in open admiration of the undisputed beauty. Dr. Helena George Wells did not do romantic jealousy. H.G. Wells had never ached for anyone in her entirely life, had never felt pangs or sighing longings. Had never. Past tense.

 

These days all Myka had to do was smile that crooked shy smile of hers, curl her lips ever so slightly at anyone besides Christina or herself and Helena was done for.

 

And that was what led to a string of spectacularly terrible, laughably horrible, no-good-very-bad dates.

 

Oh, absurdity. Oh what farce.

 

Little did she know, Helena was the reason Myka's eyes shimmered a more brilliant green, that her laughter rose freer and her smiled burned brighter. And as Charles would readily point out even years later, Helena had very nearly bollocksed it all.

 

And there they found themselves in the kitchen. And the kettle was boiling and their feet were bare and they stood very near each other late one night.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their kettle boileth over.
> 
>  
> 
> [Spoilers]
> 
>  
> 
> So basically sexy times ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really is just a bit of farcical fluff. I mean to be honest I'd like someone else to write a proper Nanny AU with these two. 
> 
> I will update the original 'One Nanny, No Diaries' at some point if there's any interest to see more of them in that alternate alternate verse.

And so this. This is where they find themselves.

Myka starts to say something but only manages a nervous laugh before indicating that they should tend to the kettle, "Water's probably all evaporated by now."

 

Helena nods her head as if in some sort of hypnotic trance, and rakes her fingers through her hair, "Right." She turns round and the whistling stops. The sputtery whistling of the kettle that is. But one sound is just replaced by another as the rushing in Myka's ears becomes almost deafening, and all the blood in her body is moving turbulently towards her head. So loud she is sure it is drowning out the chaotic pounding of her heart. Because Helena has reached up for their respective mugs and is thus ever so slightly bent over and her black lacy night dress has risen ever so slightly as well. Myka rubs the back of her neck and looks away desperately trying to suppress the rising colour she can feel creep up her chest and burning her ears. She tries to think of anything else except for what she is feeling and only manages beets, thinking she must be that exact shade by now. But just then her eye catches a white tea towel embroidered with cherries and then she is thinking of cherries. But cherries. And then another thought and knows she is failing desperately at remaining a sensibly neutral skin tone. In a losing bid to come to her senses, or more importantly to calm her senses she blurts out, "Here I'll get those." With one quick stride she has closed the gap between them and extracted the desired china from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. But there is virtually no space between them now and Myka is hyper aware of her body hovering perilously close to the body that is wreaking havoc on hers. Because Helena involuntarily turned round into Myka just then and they are at once too close and not close enough she thinks. And it is lucky that neither of them are breathing because there really is no air left at all in the room.

 

Helena opens her mouth and then closes it again. She opens her mouth again but the younger woman steps back with a muttered sorry and starts to ramble, coming apart by the others continued silence and her dark eyes and those parted lips. Myka tugs at the neck of her hoodie. "It's so hot in here. Isn't it? Do you mind if you take care of the tea and I'll just go check on Christina. I think I heard a noise. It might just be raccoons rummaging though the bins." She continues to step back and away while still running at the mouth. "There aren't any raccoons in England are there? I'll just check on Christina then. Meet you in the library?"

 

And without a sound from Helena, she is out and upstairs remarkably quickly. "Right." Is all Helena manages before brewing the tea on autopilot, fixing on the task as if it is the key to comprehending the universe or maybe just making it small enough for her not to feel swallowed up by it. But the universe is no match for the memory of a pair of toned legs moving speedily away from her. She tries very hard not to think of what things mean just then.

 

Mug in either hand she goes searching for her. But Myka is not in the library. She places them on an antique side table. Sighs deeply and melts into the bay seat, tucking her feet beneath her. When the grad student finally joins her she is no longer wearing her hoodie, only the plunging blue V-neck t-shirt she had underneath. Myka ducks her head down shyly as she approaches the bay window and sits next to Helena, "Hey."

 

"Hello, darling." Helena has managed to collect herself, her thoughts no longer in complete disarray. After all, there was evidence for her to contemplate. She did observe certain physiological signs that she simply cannot ignore. Peripheral cutaneous vasodilation, check. Mydriasis, check check. Profuse blushing coupled with the obvious pupillary response could lead her to surmise that the young woman was afflicted just the same. There is a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "For a moment, I thought perhaps you had made your escape under the pretext of a sleeping child and marauding raccoons." She teases but her eyes cannot conceal the flicker of self-doubt that Myka observes. A faint chuckle escapes the grad student but when she allows herself to really look at the beauty that is Helena Wells, she looks away and bites her lips. "Thank you for the tea."

 

"You are most welcome." She reaches for the Myka's hand and when she captures it, it is so very soft and warm. She brushes her knuckles with her thumb and keeps hold of it. And when Myka looks down it is to see their fingers laced together. And that look is filled with something close to awe, something that looks like rapture and wonder or the combination of those three. Helena seems bolder now but in reality she is gauging Myka's every reaction, monitoring every flutter of her eyelashes, every twitch of her jaw, each muscle contracting and relaxing under her touch. Yes, she is a scientist and does believe in method to achieve the means. Accurate information is necessary is it not? Relevant data is of the utmost import to drawing the right conclusions, correct? But science takes a back seat as she looks into green eyes and what she feels is something mystical, something akin to old world magic. Powerful and primitive and raw. Method is forgotten as those same eyes lower their gaze to Helena's lips.

 

"Helena?" She ventures voice lowered and unsure as Helena tugs at a curl with her free hand after gently caressing her cheek.

 

"Yes, darling." And that rogue curl is tucked safely behind her ear.

 

"You've been on a lot of dates lately." And Helena does not know what she was expecting to hear. She does not know that, but this, this is not something she was expecting. It is the surprise of it that eases the tension between them as she bursts into laughter but makes sure to hold onto Myka's hand more firmly and draws her closer. And then she knows before she sees it. It is because of the sudden heat beneath her fingers emanating from Myka that Helena knows about the garden of deep red roses flowering on those cheeks.

"Yes, unfortunately, a rather lot I'm afraid. I'd like to apologise actually." And her face is serious again. The remnant of a grin having faded quickly as realisation sets in that she must speak without knowing the consequences. Myka silently gestures for her to continue but settles closer into her body, so that their shoulders and thighs meet.

 

"They were awful. Or I was awful. I'm not sure." Helena sighs.

 

"You're not awful." Myka smiles and it is sure and wide this smile, not hesitant in the least. And Helena notices how very pink her lips are, perfect rosebud pink.

 

"I'm not?" She teases openly.

 

"You're the exact opposite of awful." And then her brows furrow and Helena cannot resist a swipe at the crease to ease away the frown.

 

"Have you thought better of that last statement." Arching her brow, but suppressing a smirk.

 

"No. But-"

 

"But what darling?"

 

Myka sighed deeply and looked down on their laced hands again before lifting her gaze back into those dark, dark eyes.

 

"Okay. I'm going to say something now. And I might have to quit my job after I do."

 

Helena's face is unreadable. She wants to ask what she could possibly have to say that could necessitate such drastic measures. And please God she wants to tell her to shut up if it's in anyway the worst thing that pops into her mind. Because Myka leaving would be the very worst thing, especially now that they are so close like this, so close but not enough by far. And for no good reason at all she is filled with a growing urge to visit violence upon Sam Martino, even if the very worst thing has nothing to do with him at all. But although the beginning of blinding panic grips at her chest, her face locks down to polished stone.

 

But Myka says what she was not expecting.

 

"You're wonderful." And she says it in a way that gives the word meaning and makes Helena's face relax in a prelude to a smile.

"But you going on all those dates. Even just one date. That's what's-That felt awful." And Myka is trying to suppress all the worst thoughts that sneak upon her, old fears that would shame her into silence. She shivers slightly but continues even though she cannot look the other woman in the eyes. "I would have liked to- I mean if we'd actually met in the cafe or even the bakery under different circumstances- Helena, what I mean is that I would have liked to ask you out on a date. And-"

 

And that's when Helena interrupts her, but not rudely. No, it is sweetness itself how she turns to dip close and steal the words with a kiss. Myka is caught by surprise but comes round quickly enough find Helena's lips again before she begins her retreat. And suddenly Helena does not know anything at all, where she is or how she got here or when her hands tangled themselves in those glorious curls or how on earth she got so very lucky. But this goddess is smiling against her mouth and gently biting at her lower lip and lightly grazing her teeth against the upper one and kissing her soundly until Helena parts her mouth for more. And when they absolutely must part to breathe again. Helena's forehead is resting against Myka's and she says it soft and low but loud enough, "You never have to quit your job for saying something like that my darling."

 

And it is laughter then between claiming lips and necks and cheeks and noses but Myka wants to clarify something first and withdraws growing very solemn suddenly. Her eyes are a very dark green, but not the darkness of a lusty haze, of growing desire. It is a darkness born of a very old hurt, one that lives deep in the corners of her heart.

 

"Your darling?" There is disbelief in her voice, and the fear to want to believe, the fear to hope. Helena caresses her face, worships it even. "Entirely mine."  
"My darling." Kisses her. "All mine."

 

Myka smiles into another kiss as Helena lowers her hands to grab her hips firmly and shows her exactly what she means.

 

.............

 

Tea is naturally abandoned, growing cold downstairs as things move steadily to boiling point upstairs.

 

There is a particular order to their chaos of movement and mouths and limbs. It is hesitant and frantic and eager all at once. It is revelatory. And then they are moving slowly entwined against each other but this thing that is the sum of them, this is moving too fast. This thing between them is moving entirely too fast Helena thinks and then she does not, cannot form a coherent thought. Not when a slow open mouthed kiss is meeting her carotid, nor when a deft tongue is greeting her breasts, she is not thinking then or when long clever fingers map her body, learning every curve and swell and dip. Learning her well, very well indeed.

 

If there is a thought somewhere between wanting and taking, between wanting and giving, it is lost somewhere between the thrill of touch and taste, between the novelty of scent and sound. They turn, they rise between staggered breath and whimpers and laughter and stifled screams. And finally when Helena lays there fallen, pressed flush against against Myka, nose to neck, palm to heart she whispers the sum of her thoughts.

 

"You are a genius Myka Ophelia Bering."

 

She feels Myka smiling before she hears her laugh, "Don't sound so surprised." Helena shifts and turns Myka with her so that they are facing each other but their limbs remain entangled.

 

She traces the line of her jaw before leaning in for a kiss,"You didn't put it on your resume darling."

 

Myka circles her waist and pulls her closer, deepening the kiss until they are breathless once more. She rests her forehead against Helena's, "I didn't want to seem over-qualified."  She grins into another kiss as Helena mumbles "cheeky" against her lips.

"Besides, it takes one to know one Dr. Wells." And this time Helena proves just how much of a genius she really is, how staggering the breadth of her imagination can be.

 

A small contented sigh escapes Myka before she fails to suppress a yawn. And it is the older woman's turn to laugh as she feels rather than sees Myka's rising colour. "Darling, you're blushing."

She shrugs. "Am I?"

Helena teases. "Yes. Furiously." She finds it endearing that Myka can still blush, does still blush so deeply despite being so uninhibited in their lovemaking. It is an utter contradiction, this mixture of boldness and reticence, confidence and shyness. She finds it utterly endearing.

 

Myka almost murmurs, "I was just thinking." She plays idly with strands of raven hair, her green eyes flicker away but rest again on dark brown before falling further to the perfect redness of a kiss-swollen mouth.

 

Helena smirks, noticing where Myka's gaze drifted and cups her face to kiss her unhurriedly, luxuriating in the growing familiarity of her taste. "What were you thinking?" She asks fondly, an amused smile still dancing at the corners of her lips while she pulls at blue sheets to cover them better because the sweaty sheen is evaporating from their warm bodies, cooling them in shivers.

 

The younger woman pauses, uncertainty clouding her brilliant eyes until Helena leans in to kiss her nose. "I was thinking how right this feels." Her voice drops to a whisper not trusting her voice to say any more, "I was thinking-"

 

And Helena knows enough now of her past to know that fear and self-doubt are stealing her words, coiling in her gut, making her afraid to trust this thing between them. That it is real. That it is solid. That it will remain. Helena captures her lips once more, this time stealing courage for herself, suppressing her own self-doubt with Myka's tongue. "What else were you thinking, darling?"

 

She prods gently before offering, "Because I was thinking how very lucky I am that a certain brilliant, stunning woman happened to respond to the advert I posted in a bakery in Brixton."

 

Helena reached for Myka's hand, kissing her fingertips. "And although it was my daughter that captured her heart from the beginning," She arches her brow in playful accusation, "she captured mine." Kissing her palm. "And I was thinking, she probably doesn't know that. She probably has no clue I absolutely adore her." Kissing her knuckles. "I was thinking I should probably let her know just how very much I love her."

 

"I love you Myka Bering."

 

"Helena, I-" Her eyes are shining with barely contained tears. She exhales, "You do?" This time it is the threat of tears that steal her words. "How?"

 

She nods, "I love you very much." As she wipes away Myka's stray tears with her thumb. Caressing her cheek. Warm breath to her ear. "How can I not, darling?" She smirks into her ear, "I am a genius after all. We know a good thing when we find it."

 

And now Myka is looking at her like she is all the wonder in the universe. She is looking at Helena with unfettered adoration and hope and rising joy. And Myka is grinning and her face cannot contain it.

 

"I love you too, you know." She responds almost bashfully. And that confession inspires lips, tongues, limbs and turned down blue sheets and silly love-drunk mutterings between them.

 

"I don't know." Helena teases with a mock-pout.

"I love you. So much. So so much." Myka clarifies slowly running her hands up and down Helena's hips.

"Do you?"

"I do."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Say the part where you do."

"I do." Myka seals it with an endless kiss.

"Good then, it's settled." Helena smirks.

Myka arches her brow.

"Christina is going to be thrilled."

"Christina?"

"My daughter."

"Helena-"

"No darling, Christina. You know, precocious cat obsessed 4-year-old who is crazy about you." She pulls at a curl wrapping her fingers around it. And gently tugging her head down with it to meet her face.

"I'm crazy about her." She admits freely as teeth nip at her neck as a face stays buried there for a moment. And Myka though confused with the turn the conversation has taken says it with the clarity of boundless affection.

"Well, that's lucky then." Lips mumble against her neck before withdrawing. "Considering she's practically your daughter. She could technically be your daughter too. If you wanted her to be."

"Helena?

"Marry me." She states simply.

"Marry you?" Myka wonders breathless and dizzy.

"You've already said you do. So do. Marry me Myka. And not because you're in every way Christina's other parent. But because I love you darling. And you should be with me."

"I love you too."

"Say yes then. Be my wife."

 

.............

 

Myka attacks her mouth but does not say yes, or I do. She says, "Ask me again," when they pull away from each other and Helena is both dazed and _dazed_. This is the part where if she had been cast as Captain Hook in this year's Christmas panto the kids would have pointed their fingers at her and yelled out 'cod fish.'

 

"Ask me again when we are not naked and you are not out-of-your-mind drunk from sex." Myka purses her lips sweetly, urging a small dimple that drives Helena to distraction. "Because I would love to say yes." She bites her lip after that admission and smiles that soft crooked smile of hers.

 

"Darling, do you honestly think I proposed in a fog of post-coital bliss?" The indignation is feigned but determined nonetheless. Myka nods but the twinkle in her eyes and the lazy way she runs her fingers between Helena's shoulder blades indicate that the idea of an impromptu proposal does not have her running to the hills. Helena huffs, "I can still think well enough thank you." Myka kisses her shoulder and then nips at her upper arm lightly with her teeth before kissing her shoulder again and mumbles into it, "That's disheartening. I guess we'll have to have another go around until you really can't think of anything at all."

 

And Helena really does look like a cod fish just then as her mouth opens and closes and opens again. She quite likes Myka like this, brazen and confident. Wasting no time, Myka rolls her over until she has both her knees firmly cradling Helena's hips. Helena props herself up at the elbows and retorts with a licentious grin, "Have at it darling. But know this, I will not stop proposing to you Ms. Bering until I have my answer." Myka presses her palm to Helena's sternum coaxing her flat and leans down to whisper in her ear, "Go ahead Wells. But know _this_. If I was doing the asking I'd have you screaming yes way before you could string a coherent sentence."

And there it is again. Cod fish.

 

There is in fact a lot of screaming. Into collar bones and necks and pillows. With a four-year-old down the hall they do not give themselves over to complete abandon, as difficult as it is at various points to muffle their cries.

 

Helena, as promised, has been rendered thoughtless with exhaustion. Myka curls into her eyes fluttering closed, "Helena...do you really think Christina will be happy about this, about us?" Barely awake, Helena nods into a crown of curls, "Absolutely my love. She'll be ecstatic." And then her eyes suddenly widen in delight as if she's had a sudden brain wave and invented the post-it, "We could be the Wells-Berings! You, Christina and I. How marvelous." She yawns and trails off, "Charles will feel left out though. I suppose you'll just have to take my name. Myka Ophelia Wells has a certain ring to it." Myka mumbles something indecipherable as human speech. 

 

They fall asleep.

 

They fall into a deep deep sleep.

 

They fall into such a deep slumber that Helena does not hear the door handle turning. They fall into such deep sleep that Myka does not hear the creaking of a door swinging open. They are practically comatose when little feet bounce through the room and bound towards the bed, with shouts of, "Mummy, wake up."

 

Myka's right eye twitches open first against the pillow. Lying 3/4 prone, one arm draped across Helena she turns into a head of tussled black silk. There is a blur. A spot just out of focus beyond her sleeping companion.

She blinks.

 

She blinks again.

 

"Oh my God Christina!" She grabs at the dark blue sheet and pulls it higher and swats blindly trying to find a strewn piece of clothing to slip into.

 

Helena stirs and turns over onto her stomach. Myka is beet red and rambling, "Good morning Christina. You're up early. What time is it? Are you hungry lovebug? Give me a second and I'll make you some breakfast."

 

Christina who is not yet five years old but intelligent beyond her years hugs her stuffed-toy giraffe to her chest. She is curious but not at all perturbed to find Myka in bed with her mother. She does not fail to notice that Myka is however, completely disturbed at being found just there. The still four-year-old sensing an opportunity asks, "Can I get a cat now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look it's pretty terrible. I know this. They never really talk to each other. Helena just oggles her so much of the time and gets crazy jealous and then all of a sudden, "Woah, really?" But it's tooth-rotting fluff. I'm sorry about your teeth.


	3. Epilogue (of sorts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Meerkat family drama in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this version of the Nanny AU was supposed to have been wrapped up. Anyway now it is. If not neatly. So anything further in the Nanny AU tag will be updated to the other fic from now on in the alternate timeline.

Vague promises to a too-knowing child are hastily made and though Helena remains asleep for the better part of the morning, Myka readies herself in a whirlwind of energy fueled largely by embarrassment. She doesn't stop. Can't stop. Her mind is too full to process it all. They were making tea. And then they weren't. They had fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs and then Christina had unceremoniously caught sight of it all. Christina who is trailing her like a shadow this particular morning, sticks close but says very little.

 

Says almost nothing except to intuitively offer help.

"Here they are." Passing Myka her glasses.

 

"You put those in the wash." As Myka rummages through the wardrobe for Christina's favourite shirt and trousers.

 

"It's behind the keenwa (quinoa)." When she is disemboweling the cupboard to add flaxseed to the porridge.

 

And something settles inside Myka as she's loading the dish washer when Christina tugs at the hem of the white grandad top she's wearing.

 

"It's Saturday remember?"

 

"Thank you sweet thing." She wipes her hands with the nearest tea towel, one not printed with cherries, and runs a thumb across Christina's ample cheek.

 

"You're welcome?" But Christina who is not quite sure what she is being thanked for hugs her giraffe tightly to her chest. Grownups are strange creatures. The easiest of them to understand she finds is Uncle Chars. She feels that Myka is embarrassed because of this morning. She knows this but does not understand why. She was simply reminding her of their Saturday morning ritual: Christina watching TV sprawled across Myka, changing her viewing posture counterclockwise by degrees, while Myka pretends to be deeply engrossed in her research. By the end of which hour Christina is always tucked safely into Myka's right side.

 

"Um, Myka..."

 

"Yeah, baby?" Myka is lost in thoughts of the previous evening. Still in a dreamlike fog of bliss.

 

"You're looking at me funny." Says looking up and squinting.

 

Myka quirks her lips and lifts up the now squealing child.

 

"Hey!" She protests for all of two seconds and then clings tightly to Myka with one arm around her neck and the other gripping her plush toy.

 

"You are getting so big. I'm not going to be able to do this for much longer." Her voice grows thick with emotion but just as she begins to feel her eyes well up, she shakes off the realisation, "So my little twizzler, are you ready to watch some telly now?"

 

Christina nods enthusiastically, "I've been ready _forever_." It is not quite a complaint but very nearly one. Myka plants a quick kiss on her cheek as she carries her into the family room.

 

"You're looking at me funny again."

 

"That's because monkeys are funny looking." Myka winks at her and steals another kiss before she lowers a now giggling Christina onto the couch.

 

.............

 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Myka is trying, unsuccessfully it should be noted, to read an article on musical notation in Ugarit. The question almost escapes her even though she has been debating the wisdom of bringing up the topic all morning. She had thought she had decided on waiting for Helena to address how Christina may or may not be feeling about the manner in which she found them.

 

But then the words practically voiced themselves.

 

Christina is watching Meerkat Manor and is burrowed into Myka's side. Five minutes ago she was laying down on her side with Myka's thigh pillowing her head. Ten minutes ago her legs were sprawled across her lap. She fidgets again but only to readjust herself and continues to snuggle into her body.

 

"Mhm." Christina's eyes are glued to the screen, "My first choice is a ginger tabby. But I don't care if it is a boy or a girl." She scratches her ear. "If it's ginger then I'm going to call it The Doctor. If not..." She sighs then, already sounding disappointed at the possibility that she might not get exactly what she wants.

 

Christina squirms and repositions herself again until she is seated on Myka's lap. She leans her head back against her chest. Myka shakes her head but can't help the smile threatening her face. She sets the scholarly journal down on the side table.

 

"You've given this some serious thought." She muses combing her fingers through Christina's dark hair even as the little girl is nodding emphatically. But then stops to coax Christina into turning and making eye-contact and hugs her closer with one arm even as she grabs hold of one chubby foot with the other. She doesn't quite know what to say. Or how much of anything she should say before Helena has a chance to speak first.

 

But then she looks into that adorably severe gaze and only knows how to say one thing. Because for the first time she is completely overwhelmed by what she is feeling for this little girl. The essence of the feeling is the same but suddenly the equations are different and everything is adding up to more. She feels more somehow. Myka who has never been one to coo over babies or name her unborn children or to even think of herself as a future parent, starts to imagine herself as exactly just that. A mom. Because Myka though she is stunned at this revelation in the full light of day, fully-clothed and away from Helena's deliriously beautiful body, realises that more than anything she wants to say yes. Wants the question to have been in earnest. Something inside her desperately wants this, Helena and Christina as her family. Not just an approximation of that scenario. She wants them for her own. Her lips twist in the makings of a private smile when Charles insinuates himself in her reverie. Even Charles.

 

Though she has already said yes to Helena's proposal in so many words save for a technicality. And Helena had been clear that Christina would be every bit her child, has already become every bit her daughter too, save for a technicality. Myka who has never been particularly interested in children in general, could very well become a parent to this child that she is already utterly besotted with in particular. And suddenly it is all too much and she feels perhaps her heart will swell to bursting with how much she feels for the tiny perfect human tucked safely into her side. Especially as Myka cannot quite believe that Helena wasn't simply caught up in the moment. The daydream is tantalising but her pragmatist's mind is already saying this cannot be real. Her insides are a tumult of emotions: hope grappling with fear, incredulity with sadness. And love tempering all of them. Love making her more hopeful, less fearful and ready to believe. Suddenly she only knows how to say one thing to this girl who has her heart so thoroughly wrapped in awe.

 

"You know I love you, right? That I love you very much. More than anything." There is a pause. There is a soft silence between them even as drama involving several of the Whiskers drones on in the background.

 

Dark eyes fix thoughtfully onto her own, "I know."

 

"You know?" Myka asks almost shyly as she wipes a straying tear from the corner of her eye before it makes tracks.

 

Christina nods sagely. "I know."

 

"Okay, good." Myka says softly, playing with the tips of Christina's dark hair, twirling the ends and letting go.

 

"Don't worry Myka. I also know you also love Mummy. More than anything." And Christina smirks as Myka's mouth opens only to shut again, robbed of the power of speech and looking very much the codfish.

 

"Cheeky." Myka laughs and turns her to wrap her arms round her, close to her chest.

 

"I get that _a lot_." She adds with that signature Wells' smile, that entirely smug and yet somehow infuriatingly charming smile. And before Myka can say anything else, or loosen her hold on Christina, there is more commotion in the background, but this time it is not more meerkat melodrama. And then suddenly, the drama that has descended upon them, upon their home, upon Oxford is Charles.

 

"You have a key?" She does not have anything more intelligent to say in that moment. Having slept precious little the night before, what with the drama and feelings and goings-on of the night before, it is already feeling like it has been a very long morning. "Of course, I have a bloo-blessed key. Family and all that, very important. Never know what might come up." He trails off before being hit by a bolt of lightning. "I daresay I ought to make you a set of keys as well now that you mention it. Family and all that. Well, Cricket how are you? Where's Helena? Why are you both looking at me like that?"

 

"Good morning my darlings," Helena of course chooses that exact moment to saunter into the room with a look that would be maddeningly undecipherable if not for the fact that her actions speak clearly enough and do not allow for tortured speculation. She rounds the sofa and dips her head to place a chaste kiss to Myka's lips before falling into the couch herself and reaching to thread her fingers through Christina's hair and kissing her temple.

Helena merely lifts a brow up in greeting at Charles, looking spectacularly annoyed and yet vaguely unsurprised. Christina rolls herself knees first onto her mother's lap and circles her arms around Helena's neck urging her ear down towards her and whispers something into her raven hair before scampering towards her uncle. Helena bites her bottom lip suppressing a smile as she reaches for Myka's hand and laces their fingers together. And Myka who cannot quite bring herself to really look at her, cannot help but look down at their joined hands in open wonderment.

If possible, Helena turns fractionally even closer into Myka who despite everything they shared last night is still sporting a faint blush from the light peck bestowed upon her. She is blushing but finding the casual intimacy this morning surreal in the best way possible. Myka lifts up her eyes from the sight of their entwined fingers to meet Helena's and can only manage a very small, "Hi." To which Helena breathes out a soft, "Hello."

 

The exchange is not lost on Christina who may not yet be five but who notices everything.

 

Neither is it lost on Charles who clears his throat in a bid to get their attention. "I see you have news."

 

Helena looks at him pointedly and ignores his remark, "To what do we owe the pleasure, dear brother?" Her intonation making it clear that at this precise moment his presence is neither a pleasure nor is he very dear.

 

He ignores it, "As do I. News."

 

"Well for heaven's sake Charles what is it?" Her voice rising with irritation.

 

"I'm getting married. I've asked Ms. Adler to marry me and she's said yes." He clears his throat again as if it's suddenly gone dry.

 

Helena's mouth parts slightly. The look on her face conveying she is both incredulous and impressed.

 

Myka whispers to Helena, "He calls his fiancée _Ms. Adler_?"

 

.............

The End (For this, if not for them)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah... that's it for this particular piece. Thanks for reading!


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